


The Price

by zelda_zee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee





	The Price

“That’s not funny,” Castiel says when Balthazar tells him the price.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” Balthazar keeps a straight face, but it’s not easy. Castiel’s expression is a charming mix of disapproval and wounded dignity, exactly the look Balthazar had envisioned him wearing when he’d first dreamed up this particular scheme. Castiel, bless him, is unfailingly predictable. Balthazar has never figured out why, with his penchant for wild flights of fancy, Castiel’s stolid constancy didn’t grow stale eons ago. Perhaps there is something to that old human aphorism about opposites attracting.

“Then you are more lost to lust and debauchery than I feared.”

Balthazar purses his lips, considering. “Yes, I daresay I am. Many of the things I’ve done since I’ve been here on Earth may well be beyond your imagining at the moment. But I can change that, Cas. I _will_ change it, if you agree to my terms.”

“Your _terms_ are completely unacceptable! We were friends, Balthazar. How can you suggest such a thing? How can you think that I would lower myself to indulge in your – perversions?” Castiel’s eyes burn with anger, bright as ice under a blazing sun.

“Castiel,” Balthazar says, holding his arms open in supplication. “We still _are_ friends. Believe me, I only want what’s best for you. You need to loosen up. You need a little down time to forget about your burdens, have a little fun, and mate, I know you’re too much of a martyr to allow yourself that.”

“That is ridiculous,” Castiel grumbles. He stares at the ground, fuming, before turning away, pacing a short distance, his footsteps echoing in the empty warehouse that is their appointed meeting place. “How long have you planned this? In Heaven, you could not have conceived of such a thing, I am certain of that.”

“In Heaven there was no need for it.” Balthazar smiles sadly. “We had each other, didn’t we Cas? In every way that mattered, we were of one heart, one mind. But here it’s different. Existing in this form –” he gestures to his body, “it’s every man for himself, sink or swim.”

“It is – difficult,” Castiel admits reluctantly.

“On this sorry plane, sex is the only way around that,” Balthazar says. “Haven’t you ever wondered why humans are so keen to be fucking all the time?” He’s pretty sure he’s hooked Castiel, not that there was ever a chance he wouldn’t accede. He needs those weapons, and protestations to the contrary, he’s not too high and mighty to dirty himself a little in order to get them. “Wouldn’t you like to feel close again?” Balthazar moves in the blink of an eye so that he’s standing in front of Castiel. “Transcendence is not just the purview of Heaven, Cas. It can be found here on Earth as well.”

Castiel’s eyes narrow. “It is not the same thing, and you know it.”

Balthazar shrugs ruefully. “Perhaps. But, believe me, it’s a close second.” He sighs, giving Castiel a long look. “Well? What’s it going to be? Do you want to stand a chance of winning your precious war or not?”

“You have become as adept at making deals as a demon,” Castiel says, glaring all the while. “You should be careful of that, Balthazar.”

Balthazar says nothing as there is nothing more to say. He need only wait until Castiel gives in.

“You swear that when it is over you’ll hand over the weapons?”

“I swear by my Father’s name,” Balthazar says with the utmost sincerity. He _is_ sincere. He has no intention of sitting on those nukes with Raphael and half of the Heavenly Host out looking for him. Castiel is more than welcome to them.

“Very well,” Castiel says roughly. “You may… do what you…” He trails off uncertainly before meeting Balthazar’s gaze, and Balthazar is not surprised to see uncertainty reflected in his eyes as well. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I know,” Balthazar says, smiling fondly. He touches Castiel lightly on the cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth, then traveling down to trace slowly over his bottom lip.

Castiel, though he has been amongst humans longer than Balthazar, has never managed to master the intricacies of existing in a human body or interacting on a human level. It has come much easier to Balthazar, a worrisome fact that causes him consternation when he allows himself to dwell on it. That he should find it so simple to blend in with the hairless apes, that their needs and desires have so quickly become _his_ needs and desires – he would not have imagined it would happen so effortlessly. Whereas, Castiel, who has gone so far as to develop actual _feelings_ for some of them, can still be flummoxed by the simplest interaction. The naiveté of it is rather sweet, Balthazar finds. But that is Castiel. Beneath all the righteous morality and the stern, soldierly façade, he has always been rather sweet. Perhaps that’s why Balthazar harbors such a deplorably soft spot for him.

Finally, he takes Castiel in his arms and draws him close. He is stiff and unyielding, which Balthazar finds utterly unsurprising.

“Not here,” he whispers in Castiel’s ear. "I have somewhere better in mind for this."

Balthazar had considered a number of venue options when formulating his plan, everything from deserted tropical beaches to an opulent penthouse at the top of one of the tallest towers of one of the world’s most populous cities. But he couldn’t be more pleased with the choice he made when Castiel gazes around him, eyes wide, lip quirking in what’s surely almost a smile. His reflection gazes back from the multitude of mirrors. The enormous room is lit with candle-burning chandeliers as it would have been in its heyday. On the walls, ceiling and statuary gilt glitters, filling the room with a golden glow, refracted in the shimmering crystal of the chandeliers. Outside the windows, all is inky darkness. On the ceiling, Louis XIV presides in all his glory, surrounded, somewhat ironically, by a multitude of angels.

“Really, Balthazar?” Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “Versailles?”

Balthazar smirks. “Only the best for you, love.”

That makes Castiel frown. “You’ve given this some forethought.”

Balthazar concedes with a nod. “I’ve always held that it’s not worth doing something if you don’t do it properly.”

“I don’t understand you,” Castiel says, facing him. “I don’t understand why you want this. Why it’s worth giving up your entire arsenal.”

“No, you wouldn’t understand,” Balthazar says quietly.

“You could have anyone you want. Why do you want me?” There’s no guile in Castiel, nothing false, no prevarication. Balthazar has yet to meet a human – or another angel – so forthright. Standing in the Hall of Mirrors in his wrinkled trench coat and his pedestrian suit, he should look shabby and worn, but the clear light in his eyes and the aura of grace that clings to him make him appear anything but ordinary in Balthazar’s eyes.

“Come here, you ridiculous thing.” He smiles as Castiel’s brows lower into an affronted scowl at the endearment. He approaches slowly, until he is standing before Balthazar, mere inches separating them. He looks wary but unafraid, which is good. Balthazar does not mean him any harm, after all.

“You have no idea why someone would want you, do you?” he says softly. “I suppose you never thought to ask your pretty pet Dean that question. Ah, ah –” He holds up his hand to Castiel’s mouth as he starts to protest. “Of course he does. It’s part of his whole messed up, codependent mindset.”

Balthazar doesn’t bother to remove his fingers from where they rest against Castiel’s lips. They’re full lips, soft and lush. He is going to enjoy kissing them.

“You chose your vessel well,” he murmurs.

“It suffices,” Castiel says, his lips brushing Balthazar’s fingers as he speaks. It tickles pleasantly.

“Oh, it more than suffices.”

But for all the beauty of the vessel, that is not what moves Balthazar, what causes the longing that twists deep inside of him, so viscerally that it permeates the body that is not his. In this form, there is nowhere for such feelings to go other than into the physical realm and so he lusts and he wants and he tries, time and time again, to drive the feeling away by fucking himself into oblivion. But it never works, not for more than that instant of blessed nothingness. He cannot forge the type of connection he yearns for with humans – they are too weak and ignorant, and the intensity of it would break them. But maybe, with Castiel, it will be different.

He doesn’t warn Castiel that he is about to kiss him. Castiel can read it in his eyes, knows the second the intention forms. He doesn’t move away – now that the deal is struck Balthazar knows he will not shirk. He is reminded of Castiel on the verge of battle, in the moment before forces are joined when he braces himself to meet the attack. He has that look about him now, as if he has dug down deep and marshaled his resolve to face whatever the enemy might throw at him.

So Balthazar doesn’t attack. Instead he soothes and coaxes with gentle kisses to the corners of Castiel’s mouth, to his cheeks, his eyelids. Castiel makes a low, unhappy sound, and Balthazar knows he does not like this unexpected approach. His eyelids flutter beneath Balthazar’s lips, eyelashes dainty as insect wings. When he reaches Castiel’s mouth again, Balthazar kisses him slowly, thoroughly, holding his head in place and his body close and concentrating on making Castiel want to open up and let him in.

Eventually, he draws back, opening his eyes to find Castiel watching him, his gaze clear despite the flush to his lips and cheeks.

“That was lovely,” Balthazar says. “But this time, open your mouth and close your eyes.”

“I know how to kiss,” Castiel says testily. “You are not my first.”

That takes Balthazar by surprise. “I’m not? Who have you kissed?” His mind flashes instantly to Dean, with that sinful mouth that won’t shut up.

Castiel’s gaze falters, the flush on his face deepening. “Never mind who. No one you know. It was only the one time.”

“Fine,” Balthazar says, selfishly relieved that the object of Castiel’s affection was apparently not Dean. Anyone would be preferable, really, even that hulking brother of his. “Since you claim to know what you’re doing, show me.”

It startles Balthazar when Castiel grasps his head firmly between his hands and brings their mouths together with the kind of serious determination he usually reserves for drawing up battle plans or debating questions of free will. A wave of wild heat sweeps through Balthazar and his lips part in surprise. Castiel takes advantage of that, pressing in, slanting their lips together and sliding his silky tongue boldly into Balthazar’s mouth. It’s a surprisingly skillful essay into the art of kissing and Balthazar is not unaffected. He is, in fact, more affected than he has been by any kiss he has partaken of since he inhabited a human body and realized that the pleasures of the flesh were his to sample at will.

“Yeesss,” he sighs blissfully, when Castiel draws back. “Now that’s more like it.” He forces his eyes open and for a moment they don’t want to focus. Fascinating, the myriad of responses that the human body has to sexual stimuli. This is one he has experienced before, and yet he still can marvel at it.

Castiel is staring at him, but making no move to kiss him again or to do anything further. Balthazar is a bit disappointed at this development, but cannot blame him. This is Balthazar’s show. He’s the one who’s insisted that the price Castiel pay in return for the weapons is the loss of his virginity, so he really shouldn’t expect Castiel to do all the work.

He backs Castiel up into one of the mirrors on the wall, unfastening his trousers as they move. “I think,” he says, pulling the belt loose of the buckle, “that what you need,” slipping the button through the hole and tugging at Castiel’s zipper, “is a demonstration of my sincerity – of my _pure_ intentions,” he slides a hand into Castiel’s trousers, “so that you’ll realize that I have only your best interest at heart.”

Whatever Castiel might have said in response is lost in a gasp as Balthazar wraps his hand around Castiel’s dick. He’s not erect, not even close, but the novelty of the sensation must be enough to impress, for Castiel is wearing a stunned expression, his lips parting soundlessly. He grabs Balthazar’s forearm in a grip that could crush stone, but he doesn’t push him away, so after a brief pause Balthazar gives Castiel a squeeze and begins to jerk him, slow and steady.

Castiel licks his lips, tries to speak without success, then after a moment manages to roughly whisper, “Does – does it always feel so – strange?”

Balthazar chuckles. “Just wait. It gets stranger.”

Castiel nods, his face screwed up in an expression that is more indicative of enduring some kind of unpleasant procedure than of surrendering to sensual pleasure.

“My first time – which was not all that long ago, now that I think of it,” Balthazar says, continuing to gently stroke while he speaks. “It was terrifying. Exquisite, but terrifying. And strange, yes. So very strange to feel so many intensely _physical_ sensations. We are not built for that – well, it would never be possible in our true form. But here, the old rules don’t apply.” He smiles as he feels Castiel stiffening in his hand. “And all things are possible.”

Castiel is watching him as he speaks, focused intensely, his face having lost that dispiritingly pinched look. His eyes drop to Balthazar’s mouth, which makes Balthazar smile. He speeds his strokes and Castiel’s eyes snap to his, wide and startled and so deeply blue.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says.

Balthazar cannot resist laughing, just a little. Castiel is almost completely hard, his cock warm and smooth and so very satisfyingly responsive. “You see?” Balthazar leans in until his lips barely brush Castiel’s. “Do you understand now?”

“I believe I am beginning to,” Castiel says unsteadily. He closes his eyes, tilting his head back against the mirror. “You’re sure it’s supposed to feel like this?”

“Quite sure, my dear.” He kisses Castiel’s neck, the skin soft beneath his lips until he reaches the slight rasp of stubble. He mouths over Castiel’s throat until he finds a place that makes him shiver, stays there and works that spot with lips and tongue and teeth until the shivers turn to shudders and Castiel twists, pulls him in and kisses him hungrily and a bit sloppily, but so full of unchecked need that it more than makes up for any lack of finesse. Their tongues meet, Castiel’s rubbing and curling against his, drawing him on into the heated vortex of his mouth. Balthazar makes a sound low in his throat, bestial and gruff, presses Castiel’s head back against the mirror, thumb massaging the hinge of his jaw to make him open wider. Castiel lets him in, kissing him fiercely and making desperate, muffled noises, words perhaps, but lost in the heat between them. His hands grasp at Balthazar’s shoulders as if his solidity is the only thing keeping him anchored as his hips find a rhythm, thrusting into Balthazar’s fist.

“Balthazar,” Castiel gasps as he tears their mouths apart. “I don’t – I can’t –”

“I know,” Balthazar replies, feeling more than a little overwhelmed himself. “I know, you’ll see, there’s more.” He bites Castiel’s neck, licks into his ear, wet and dirty. “Let it happen. Just let it take you. Trust me.”

Castiel makes a breathy sound that Balthazar doesn’t immediately recognize as a laugh. “I can’t think of a single reason why I should.”

“Then let me give you one,” Balthazar says, and drops to his knees.

Castiel stares down at him dazedly. He must know what Balthazar intends – you don’t observe humanity, and Dean Winchester in particular, without learning what assuming this particular position portends. However, the last thing Balthazar wants to think of at this moment is a Winchester, so he focuses instead on what’s in front of him.

He has by now viewed many a human sex organ at close quarters and the variations on the theme never fail to amaze him. Such individuality in this most secret part of the human body! One never knows until the big reveal exactly what one is getting. But, like everything else about his vessel, Castiel’s penis is quite pleasing to look upon. Balthazar finds this consistency fitting, as Castiel is one of the most consistent beings Balthazar has ever known.

“You have done this before -- with human men?” Balthazar senses the hesitancy in Castiel’s words, in the way his fingertips touch Balthazar’s head too gently, in the stillness of his body, holding himself tensely, braced for the unknown.

“Oh my, yes,” Balthazar replies, with more confidence than may be warranted. “Men, women, and a few who were neither.” He stops, tilts his head. “Or both. I’m never quite sure how that works. At any rate, nothing to worry about. I know what I’m doing.”

Words to the contrary, he is not exactly an expert at giving head, usually preferring to be on the receiving end of the experience. The few times he has done it, it has not been what he would call enjoyable. With Castiel, however, he begins to suspect that may change. He rubs his lips along the shaft, inhaling a scent that is nothing like the pungent reek of humanity. Instead, he has the impression of spring grasses, the brine that the sea breeze carries, the loamy smell of warm earth. He senses ambrosia and Heaven and home and it makes him moan as he takes in as much as he can – as much as he can, which is everything, the gag reflex just a faint twitch at the back of his throat that he banishes with a thought.

Castiel cries out harshly, his voice echoing in the large chamber. His fingers dig into Balthazar’s scalp, not gentle now. No, now they’re insistent, holding him steady as Castiel thrusts, hips snapping aggressively forward. It’s beautiful, the way he’s become lost to it, Balthazar decides, looking up at the long line of Castiel’s body. Despite all the clothes he’s inexplicably still wearing, there’s a tautness visible in his form, in the angle of his torso and the arch of his neck, that makes Balthazar’s cock jump in sympathy. When Castiel’s moans grow agonized and he swells in Balthazar’s mouth, Balthazar feels an answering spasm of heat that has him groaning and pressing his hand to his crotch to find some relief.

Balthazar reaches up to run light fingertips over Castiel’s balls, then rolls them in his palm, and Castiel convulses, uttering a series of sobbing gasps and grabbing onto Balthazar’s shoulders to keep himself upright. Balthazar swallows before the first spurt hits the back of his throat and if he weren’t so oblivious to anything but Castiel, he’d be embarrassed at how greedy he is for it, making satisfied little grunting noises as he sucks and licks and sucks some more, until he notices that Castiel – Castiel, whose strength never fails him – has begun to slide weakly to the floor.

“No, no, no,” Balthazar says, gripping him under the arms and heaving him up to standing. “Not so fast, mate. I’m not done with you.” Castiel raises heavy-lidded eyes, looking flushed and pleasure-drunk and Balthazar find it impossible not to kiss him, impossible not to give in to the allure of that slack mouth, those pliant lips. Castiel’s kiss is slow and clumsy, but perfect for all that. Indeed, it may be his favorite of all the kisses Balthazar has ever received.

“I didn’t know,” Castiel says, his voice hoarse, but with an undertone of wonder.

“Of course not.” Balthazar strokes his face with gentle touches, feeling unaccountably tender. “No one can, until you experience it for yourself.”

“I thought I understood,” Castiel says, shaking his head. “But I was mistaken.”

Balthazar makes no reply, just tugs Castiel’s tie loose, unthreading it from its knot and then leaving it hanging around his neck. He pushes the coat and jacket off his shoulders and lets them fall to the floor. He unbuttons Castiel’s shirt, starting at the bottom and Castiel lets him, hands hanging relaxed at his sides.

He swallows as Balthazar gets to the top button, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“What are you going to do now?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Balthazar replies, meeting Castiel’s eyes. “I’m going to put my fingers inside this lovely little body you’re wearing, and open it up, and then I’m going to fuck you. And you,” he slides his hands up Castiel’s torso and pinches his nipples, enjoying the way he jumps, “are going to _love_ it.”

Castiel does not protest, which is heartening. It would seem that Balthazar’s demonstration of good intentions had the desired effect. Perhaps he even convinced Castiel that the cost of those weapons is not as exorbitant as he had first thought. Indeed, he may be beginning to realize that Balthazar is actually doing him a favor.

At least, that’s the way Balthazar sees it.

“Turn around,” Balthazar says, and Castiel does. His expression, when he realizes that he is facing one of the many mirrors in the hall, and that when he looks around him he can see their reflections in any number of other mirrors, is priceless. He doesn’t comment, but his eyes meet Balthazar’s in the mirror. Balthazar responds with a quirk of a smile, a wink and an appreciative survey of Castiel’s thoroughly debauched appearance. With his clothes in disarray and his hair even messier than usual and the telltale color that still stains his cheeks and his swollen mouth, Castiel is the perfect example of what any human who is not blind or dead would term “fuckable”. It’s a little odd to see his friend this way, Balthazar will not deny it, but the fact that his cock is straining against the zipper of his jeans only proves that a little oddness is not enough to dampen his enthusiasm.

For a being that can shift time and space it’s a small matter to magic up a bit of lubricant when needed. Balthazar has done it before, much to the amazement of his human companions. It’s not Balthazar’s suddenly slick fingers that seem to surprise Castiel however, but the feel of them touching him in a place where he has no doubt never been touched before.

“This will feel strange before it feels good,” Balthazar warns, looking down to watch his fingers delve between the sweetly rounded curves of Castiel’s backside. It’s a glorious ass, perfect and pale and nicely muscled and how _did_ Castiel find such a vessel? He probably paid no attention to appearance and just ended up inhabiting this gorgeous creature through dumb luck. Balthazar may sneer about “hairless apes” but he has developed a healthy appreciation for the occasional beauty to be found in the human form, and really, it doesn’t get better than this. He almost feels he should thank Castiel for doing him the favor of claiming a vessel so well-suited to his taste, only his friend is clueless enough that he would never understand.

Balthazar slides a finger in, closing his eyes for a moment as the sensation of how hot and tight that space is makes the leap from his finger directly to his cock. He _wants_ and the urge to just _take_ is strong. Castiel would not stop him and though he might not enjoy it, it wouldn’t hurt him either. It won’t do though. There’s nothing for it but to exercise patience if Balthazar wants anything more than a selfish slaking of his own lust.

Which he does, in itself an unaccustomed desire. Usually Balthazar is all about the slaking of his own lust, and while most of the time he makes an effort to see that he’s not alone in the slaking, he’s got to admit that in the past selfishness has been an integral part of his M.O. But not today.

“It does feel strange,” Castiel mutters. His eyes are closed and there’s a little vertical line between his eyebrows.

“Try to relax the muscles,” Balthazar urges.

“I know the principle involved,” Castiel says snappishly. “Just because I’ve never done this before doesn’t mean I don’t know how it works.”

“Good, then put what you know into practice.” Balthazar withdraws his finger and rubs over the rim, waiting to see if Castiel is going to comply. Their eyes meet in the mirror and for a moment there’s a challenge there, but then Castiel drops his eyes and bites his lip and a moment later Balthazar feels the muscles soften beneath his fingertips. When he slides two fingers in there’s less resistance, though it’s still delightfully tight, not to mention hot and slick enough that the movement of his fingers make wetly erotic noises, sending little twinges of anticipation to Balthazar’s cock.

He twists his fingers to find the prostate gland, rubbing over it and relishing the astonished look that comes over Castiel’s face before his eyes roll back. He clenches down on Balthazar’s fingers then relaxes, then tightens again as Balthazar continues to work that spot. Castiel is getting hard again without a single touch to his cock, as Balthazar can see in the mirror. It’s a tough choice, whether to watch Castiel’s cock harden, or his face as he is gradually but surely overcome with pleasure, or his own fingers buried in Castiel’s pretty ass.

“I think – _ohh_ – I think I want, for you to, to, to -- do it,” Castiel gasps and maybe it’s not exactly the epitome of sex talk, but Balthazar get a jolt of arousal at Castiel’s words nonetheless. Suddenly his patience has run out and he cannot wait another minute to get his cock inside that lithe, writhing body. He tears his pants open, shoves them down his thighs, doesn’t bother with disrobing further even though it would only take a thought. He has no thought to spare for anything but this, using one hand to hold Castiel’s cheeks open and with the other lining up his cock at just the right angle to impale him on it. He’s not prepared for it when Castiel reaches back with one hand to spread himself, bending forward and arching his back in manner that is nothing short of shamelessly wanton.

“Cas,” Balthazar whispers, awestruck. He shudders hard, clamps down on the urgent need to let go that Castiel’s actions have prompted. He can’t, not yet, must keep it together. He’s _shaking_ as he pushes, watching his cock be swallowed up by Castiel’s body. He bites his lip and groans desperately, hips jittering with the repressed need to shove in hard and fast. Castiel places both hands on the mirror, bracing himself, and when Balthazar drags his eyes away from the addictive sight of Castiel’s little pink hole being stretched wide by his cock he sees Castiel watching him intently in the mirror, his eyes dark and hot and his mouth hanging open.

Balthazar wants to say something, but at the moment his facility with language seems to have fled.

“You can – if you want” Castiel says and his voice has been reduced to a throaty growl, shot through with lust, that makes the hair on the back of Balthazar’s neck stand on end. “Just do it. You know you can’t hurt me.”

And Balthazar knew that, he did, he just maybe forgot for a minute, having grown used to reining himself in with his human partners. He takes a good, firm hold of Castiel’s hips and _shoves_ , sinking in as deep as he can go. The noise wrung out of Castiel is wonderfully savage, and it urges Balthazar onward as he fucks in again and again, watching Castiel in the mirror, watching his face as his reactions to new sensations race over it. He slides his hands over Castiel’s hips, around to the front, framing his groin, fingers feathering over Castiel’s skin, brushing through the hair he encounters and lightly pulling. Not touching where Castiel no doubt wants him to though, because Balthazar can be a terrible tease and there’s no one he enjoys teasing more than Castiel and this new wrinkle in their relationship offers him oh-so-many more ways to drive Castiel crazy than he ever had before.

Castiel whimpers as Balthazar’s fingers come close before veering away, sliding up the taut planes of Castiel’s torso. He’s still got the shirt on, hanging open, offering tantalizing glimpse of his chest as he moves, hips flexing back fluidly as Balthazar drives forward. Castiel shifts his weight to support himself against the mirror with one hand, drops the other to wrap around his cock, probably, Balthazar estimates, the first time he has ever felt – or at least given in – to such an urge.

It’s not one he’s anxious to indulge though, and he grabs Castiel’s wrist before he can make contact, twisting his arm behind his back and then, before Castiel has time to react, grabbing the other wrist and holding them both a the small of his back. Balthazar steels himself to be called every dirty name in the book, but then Castiel’s eyes glaze over and he _moans_.

That’s… surprising, but Balthazar is good at thinking on his feet and he files Castiel’s response away to look at more carefully later, occupying himself with constructing a simple magical bind for Castiel’s wrists to keep them in place (not that Castiel couldn’t break it if he chose to), all the while giving him the best fucking that Balthazar can manage. And Castiel seems to appreciate it, gasping and moaning more and more loudly – and really, with the way the room echoes, it’s a constant noise reverberating around them – and trying to thrust himself back onto Balthazar’s cock, although without being able to brace himself against the mirror he no longer has the leverage he needs.

It’s a flash of inspiration to take Castiel’s tie and work it between his teeth like a bit, pulling it tight. He thinks maybe Castiel _does_ call him names then, but now his voice is muffled by the gag and it’s difficult to tell if there are any actual words mixed in with the moans.

“Hush, you like this,” Balthazar says and Castiel makes a vehement sound of denial. There’s no denying the way that he bucks though, when Balthazar rocks forward at just the right angle, or the state of his erection, standing up hard and red and dripping.

“Look in the mirror,” Balthazar whispers, because the sight of them is so amazing that it must be shared. “You’re one kinky little angel, Cassy,” which is maybe not entirely kind, but Balthazar does adore putting that look on Castiel’s face, the one that promises the smiting of the century, and then fucking him so hard that he forgets all about it.

Castiel leans back, his head resting on Balthazar’s shoulder, turning his face in towards his neck making all kinds of delicious noises through the gag, right into Balthazar’s ear. It’s disarming and intimate and oddly affectionate and Balthazar wants Castiel’s mouth, has to have it that very instant. With a thought the tie is gone and Castiel’s mouth is on his, wide and welcoming and so heavenly that Balthazar is dizzy with it. They sway unsteadily back and forth a couple of times before he unfurls his wings and they rise a few feet from the floor. There they hover, twisted around each other, Castiel still speared on his cock, his wrists still bound, groaning into each other’s mouths.

Balthazar takes Castiel’s cock in his hand and the noise that escapes Castiel’s lips sounds more like a ragged sob than a gasp. He bears down, grinding back as Balthazar strokes him. Balthazar counters with short, deep thrusts which seem to light up something inside Castiel, something that makes him writhe and arch and surge into Balthazar’s kiss.

“ _Oh_ ,” he gasps, breathless, against Balthazar’s lips. “ _Ohohoh_ ”

The moment Castiel comes is, thinks Balthazar, the most divine one yet in his earthly existence. No opiate, no libation, no ménage a douze can compare. Castiel shudders like a saint in ecstasy, lost in transports of bliss, his face filled with light and astonishment, as if he sees the face of God right before him. Balthazar feels powerful, holding Castiel as he shakes and keens, feels like maybe, finally, he got something right.

Castiel is tight around him, squeezing his cock in the most exquisite way imaginable, and warm and heavy in his arms and Balthazar has no need of any further physical stimulation than that. All he need do is release the hold he’s kept on himself, release and let the heat and the tension rise up in him, groaning as it spills over, as he forces himself in, deeper and deeper, his fingers digging bruises into Castiel’s hips that fade before he lifts his hands away, his teeth leaving a bite mark on Castiel’s shoulder that disappears before the saliva dries. He can _feel_ Castiel, not just his vessel, but _him_ , that part of him that Balthazar has known forever. It wraps around him, holding him as he’s lost in the heights of pleasure, and the awareness of being held so intimately only makes it better, grace stroking grace in an upward-spiraling wave that Balthazar wishes could go on forever.

There is an end, however, as there always is to things corporeal. They float gently to the ground, still joined, Castiel’s bonds dissolved, and his hands resting on Balthazar’s arms which are wrapped around his waist.

“It was good,” Castiel whispers after a long time.

Balthazar smiles against his neck. “You see? It was not so very high a price to pay. In fact, I’d say you got a bargain.”

Castiel huffs a breath, almost a laugh.

“You should know,” Balthazar whispers, his lips barely brushing the shell of Castiel’s ear, “that if you had refused to pay I still would have handed over the weapons.” He nuzzles Castiel’s neck, breathes in the warm, spicy scent, uniquely inhuman. “After all, I took them for you.”

He feels Castiel stiffen in his arms. He tries to turn, but Balthazar holds him where he is. He doesn’t need to see Castiel’s face to know the confused expression he’s wearing. There’s a feeling in Balthazar’s gut that’s strangely akin to regret and he buries his face in Castiel’s neck as he says, “They were always meant for you.”

“You took them for me.” Castiel echoes. “Why? I thought you were intent on not choosing sides.”

He pulls away and Balthazar lets him go. By the time Castiel turns to face him they are both clothed again.

“I don’t have to choose sides,” Balthazar says. He leans in and gives Castiel a peck on the cheek. “Figure it out, Cas. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

Before Balthazar can vanish, Castiel’s hand is behind his head and he pulls him into a fast, deep kiss.

“I forgive you for the deception,” he says, still holding Balthazar close.

“I didn’t ask for forgiveness,” Balthazar points out.

“Nonetheless, you have it.”

“That’s my cue,” Balthazar says. Conversations about forgiveness really aren’t his thing. “I’d love to stay and bask in the afterglow, but you now how it is -- people to see, things to do.”

“We must meet again soon,” Castiel says, back to that stiff formality that comes so naturally to him. “To arrange the transfer of arms," he adds, when Balthazar raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, we must, mustn’t we?” Balthazar muses. He tilts his head, regarding Castiel thoughtfully. Now that they have begun down this road, he realizes, they won’t be turning back. He smiles and the look of warmth that engenders in Castiel’s eyes makes him glow with a mix of triumph and the renewed stirring of desire. “I shall look forward to it then, Cas.”

And with that, he’s gone.

  



End file.
